


Gay Divorce

by UlsPi



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Getting Back Together, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Post-Divorce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:33:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29533440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UlsPi/pseuds/UlsPi
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley had divorced and now Aziraphale has second thoughts about it.Reuploaded.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 50
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I deleted it bc I got a nasty comment. I accept concrit. I love an argument. Everything has to be polite.

"I'm not an idiot, Crowley! It's over! You can't cheat on me and pretend that it's just another one of your transgressions that I'll forgive!" 

"No one called you an idiot! I have never cheated on you. What the hell are you talking about?"

"And we have a child! A child! You could have restrained yourself at least for Adam's sake!"

"Oh, don't bring Adam into this. He's nothing to do with your stupid insecurities! Why can't you fucking trust me? You've known me for six years, we've been married for five of them, and you're still going on about how you're not good enough for me! Well, here's some news for you! I love you, I've never cheated!"

"Oh, so you just happened to cuddle with Anathema? It just happened that she slept in our bed?"

"She's a friend! She lost her mother, for fuck's sake! You have always insisted that we have to stay in this oyster-sized flat, so I'm sorry, but I couldn't put her into Adam's room or on the sofa! She'd been crying for hours, you twat!"

"Oh, and you were there to comfort her, of course! In our bed!"

"Angel, I've never given you a reason to doubt me…"

"Oh really? Really? And all those… sinful looks you get, all the people that flirt with you…"

"Oh, so I'm responsible for being flirted with? That's huge!"

"It is, right? You are a famous writer, and I'm what, an old bore of a man, boring as fuck, fat and infamous for my critique of your first novel… I should have known! You only ever toyed with me!"

"You're going to be sorry about it in the morning…"

"And in our bed!"

"You went to your fucking conference, and you hate conferences! I didn't expect you to come back so soon! Both of us, Adam and I, we begged you to stay, I begged you not to torture yourself with that stupid conference!"

"Oh, so my career is stupid then? My life is stupid? I am stupid? Of course I am! I trusted you! I thought you loved me. I should have known better! I should have known you'd just been waiting for a chance to humiliate me!"

Aziraphale left immediately, and in the morning Crowley had to comfort Adam and Anathema. It wasn't wise, wasn't good parenting, wasn't good friendship, but Crowley had always been painfully honest with those he loved. 

Adam, too serene and understanding for a six-year-old, helped him pack their things, and Anathema yelled at Aziraphale on the phone, but in the end it was clear that Aziraphale didn't want to do anything with either Crowley or his mentee. He of course wanted shared custody, but Adam refused to even talk to Aziraphale, which of course led to Aziraphale blaming Crowley for turning their son against him. 

It was a long and acrimonious divorce, which both Aziraphale's and Crowley's closest family welcomed, the former gleefully, the latter, bitterly. 

Crowley and Adam moved to a small town by the sea, and Aziraphale returned to his small flat that made him nauseous, so he sold it and moved to Oxford. 

After two years of strained visits and outings, Adam agreed to spend some time with his  _ papa _ and came to enjoy it, although Aziraphale couldn't help wincing each time Adam mentioned his  _ dad,  _ the irony being that biologically, Adam was Aziraphale's nephew, but Crowley had come to become the boy's revered, beloved  _ dad, _ someone patient and honest and funny. 

***

Crowley was a student in Tracy's writing workshop. There had been many good writers that she had whipped into form through the years, but Crowley had been her favourite, and undoubtedly the most talented one. 

Being unsure of her judgement (for once!) she brought Crowley's first novel to Aziraphale. He had just finished the paperwork for legally adopting his orphaned nephew and he was losing his mind, because he'd never imagined being a parent, never imagined his sister dying and her husband drinking himself into an early grave. 

Most of all, though, Aziraphale didn't imagine caring for someone so much, while being absolutely helpless and clueless about what said care should be about, and in that state of mind Tracy brought him the finished novel of her most brilliant protege. 

Aziraphale loved the plot, the witty and wicked ideas it was based on, but he found the language bland and lacking, all of which he told Tracy. 

She looked around Aziraphale's flat and told him she'd send him help. Being sleep deprived and tired and grieving, Aziraphale didn't pay much attention to his dear friend's words, but the next day a young ginger man, lanky, skinny, all black angles and sharp cheekbones, knocked on his door.

He introduced himself as Anthony. He walked into the flat and made a sound of annoying and annoyed disapproval. He grabbed Adam from Aziraphale and calmed him down immediately. He sent both Adam and Aziraphale to bed, and as Crowley would joke years later, he had to work harder on making Aziraphale get his sleep. 

Anthony stayed, uninvited but most welcome. A roommate of his, Hastur, a scary looking tall man with a mane of ash-coloured hair and the stench of cigarette ash, brought Anthony a change of clothes and did shopping. 

The world was young and confusing, Adam was happy and calm, and Aziraphale was somewhat stupidly smitten with the younger man sauntering around his flat, letting Adam spit on his expensive sunglasses  _ (My eyes.) _ and being an unassuming and gentle presence. By the end of the month he had practically moved in. 

At first Aziraphale didn't ask any questions, but as soon as he did Anthony turned out to be that young protege of Tracy's. 

"Oh dear… but I… destroyed you." Aziraphale said fiddling with his hands, while Crowley made sure Adam wasn't sitting in a w-shaped position. 

"It's ok. I told Tracy that if she had to give my novel to someone of your caliber, she'd have to avoid mentioning the fact that… written word isn't my strongest suit. I would have flourished in Ancient Greece, though."

"You're dyslexic, aren't you?" Aziraphale realised. "I'm so sorry to have been such a dufus!"

"It's ok, angel."

"Why are you calling me that?"

"You've aged handsomely," Crowley announced. "And well, Adam is a total Antichrist… aren't you, Adam?" He cooed at the baby who giggled happily. "But you've been doing your best and… I don't know. Like you, I guess." Crowley shrugged. 

They went through the novel together, Crowley talking, Aziraphale editing. They fit, just so. 

The book was published; the Booker won. The three of them, Aziraphale, Adam and Crowley, went to the Ritz to celebrate. Aziraphale was sure they would never be allowed to enter with a baby, but surprisingly (unsurprisingly) they were led to a quiet corner, waiters cooed over Adam and brought him his freshly made apple juice and the softest turkey souffle to have ever touched a mortal's mouth, while Crowley fed Adam, chatted with Aziraphale and watched the older man eat his meal with rapt attention. 

***

Aziraphale loved a good meal and a good book. During those crazy months he barely had a meal and took part in editing a remarkable, properly enchanting book. The delicious food, instead of making him content and satisfied, cleared his thoughts in an unpleasant manner, so he discovered a few uncomfortable truths. The lack of practice must have been to blame. 

First, he never paid Crowley and didn't even ask about the payment. Second, he was embarrassingly attracted to a much younger man who looked like a rock star and thought like a scholar. Third, said man was looking at him so intensely that Aziraphale could feel the gaze despite Crowley's ever-present sunglasses.

Aziraphale wiped his lips and scolded himself inwardly for barely paying any attention to Adam, who was happily chewing on his light cheesecake, while Crowley's food was getting colder.

"Dear boy," Aziraphale began, and both Adam and Crowley looked at him. "I meant you, Anthony," Aziraphale clarified. 

"Yes, angel? Adam, we don't play with our food."

Adam, the clever baby he was, tried to meow through a mouthful of dessert. Crowley made an effort to make a strict face, but failed spectacularly, and his black clothes were covered in cheese the next morning. He burst out laughing. Whatever Aziraphale wanted to say had to wait, perhaps, but Aziraphale was nothing but stubborn. He began helping Crowley to clean his jacket. 

"I… I never even asked you… never paid you!"

"I would have mentioned it, angel, don't worry." Crowley smiled, somewhat tensely, and Aziraphale rightly explained it to himself as a result of his fussy ministrations over Crowley's clothes, but immediately attributed it to wishful thinking.

"Still… I come from money, dear boy, and I've been…"

"It's ok. Got plenty of online students, angel, I'm ok. To be honest, I think I should apologise because living with you saved me a shitload of money, and now I'm even a bit rich." Crowley smiled proudly. He paid the bill, they returned to Aziraphale's flat. Adam fell asleep in Crowley's arms and was gently put into his bed. 

"He's so fucking cute!" Crowley said, and Aziraphale thought that he couldn't stand being anywhere else but there, next to  _ their  _ boy's crib, so close to Crowley. 

He dragged the younger man to the living room and poured them both a glass of wine.

"I'm sorry I couldn't attend," Aziraphale said.

"It's ok. You'll definitely attend when I win the Nobel prize." Crowley winked, then turned serious. "Listen… I… I know it can… complicate things and shit… but how… how would you feel if we had a… a date? Maybe… in a few years, when Adam is in preschool, and… I mean, I'm pretty bohemian, but you have a real job… so…"

"I'd love to!" Aziraphale interrupted. "But… my dear boy, we've been living together for some time, so… do we really need a date? I mean, I know… know you." How true it was! He knew Crowley's quirks and didn't mind then, knew his manners, his movements, saw him practically naked and saw him swaddling Adam… 

"So… we could get married tomorrow then?" Crowley asked. Aziraphale snapped back from his reverie and stared at the writer. He wanted to say that it was ridiculous and impossible. He wanted to say that it was too damn fast. 

But he was in love, and that man with red hair and stupidly long limbs seemed to return his feelings, so why not? Why not be crazy, mad and stupid with love, if it meant keeping that happiness Crowley had forged out of a tragedy and chaos?

"I'll take care of you, angel, you and our boy. I'll do anything. You're so beautiful…"

***

So they got married. It took another year or so to stop forgetting about the date they settled on, but in the end, they did it. Adam began preschool. Crowley had spent a few months looking for the best one, while Aziraphale laughed into his neck. They admired each other's fussiness, be it tea, books or their son's education. They had their dates - picnics, matinees, breakfasts at the Ritz. Aziraphale received flowers every Friday, and Adam got a new toy (vintage, restored, precious) for every developmental milestone. 

Crowley began teaching in the UCL and set up a writers' workshop for dyslexics. Anathema was his first and favourite student. 

Aziraphale loved Crowley more and more and more, until it felt that it was too much, until he felt he didn't deserve the devotion and loyalty that Crowley had been giving him as if it had been nothing. Crowley was  _ the mother.  _ Crowley was Adam's parent of choice, and Aziraphale didn't care about it, until everything and everyone around him seemed to remind him all the time that he married a young popular writer, who was beautiful, witty and kind, who was wicked, wily and generous.  _ He married you for connections in the academia, he married you to mock you, who would want you, you're fat, you're moody, you're difficult. _

***

Crowley was invited to a late night show. The host asked him about his attitude towards criticism.

"Oh, I married my strictest critic," Crowley replied, besotted and smitten. "I wouldn't want to change his mind, because his mind is brilliant. He's a true intellectual."

There were flowers and dates and magnums of champagne, shared desserts and sleepless nights when Adam was sick, there were nights of love and passion, there were mornings of kisses and slow lovemaking, and all the while Aziraphale heard his brother's voice and the dean's voice and his own inner voice teasing and mocking and saying that someone like Crowley could never love someone like Aziraphale.

And yet there were flowers and dates and champagne and every good thing that an aging Shakespeare scholar didn't have any reason to deserve. 

There was Anathema, young and brilliant and Adam's beloved  _ aunt.  _

***

Aziraphale returned from a conference a day earlier, to find Crowley cuddling Anathema in their bed. He could see that Anathema had been crying, he could hear her uneven breath, but the very sight of his husband holding a younger woman in his arms made Aziraphale mad with jealousy. 

It was a long-lasting madness, the one that would deprive a person of sleep and rest. He couldn't believe that Adam preferred his promiscuous dad to his faithful papa. A small, naughty, cruel voice inside Aziraphale's head was repeating that  _ if a child couldn't see anything sinful, then there was nothing sinful, oh but of course Crowley would trick a child as well, a proper revenge for his terrible review of his first book.  _

The voice didn't bother itself with facts, with Crowley staying with Aziraphale throughout the lowest part of his life, with Crowley cancelling his classes and looking for the best schools for Adam… Nothing made sense anymore, but it had to be an illusion. 

Adam came around in the end. He would never miss a chance to speak about Crowley, but he looked at Aziraphale tenderly and loved spending time with him.


	2. Chapter 2

Crowley woke up early because the sea woke him up every single day. He got up, made breakfast, looked at Aziraphale's picture on his phone… 

Bea, his sibling, told him that he had been torturing himself needlessly, but Crowley, who had never been afraid of anyone, if only out of sheer spite towards the rest of the world, was afraid of forgetting Aziraphale. 

"I don't want to fucking forget the best thing that happened to me," Crowley explained to them every time they called. They called every day, and so this heroic act of memory became the crucial and the most mundane Crowley's life. 

Crowley would feed Adam and drive him to school. He had settled in this town for the sake of the school, after all - classes by the sea, scientific trips, no strict schedule, dedicated teachers. What was not to like? Adam had friends and was doing quite well.

Having dropped Adam, Crowley would come back home and work. Twice a week he drove to London for his workshop. The rest of the time he'd write.

His first novel was about ideas and concepts, how they played and intertwined, fitting perfectly, like Aziraphale's fingers between Crowley's. 

His second was a children's book.  _ (Angel? Why aren't you sleeping? - This book is spooky, Crowley. - Oh… I love spooky. Kids love spooky. - And yet I can't sleep. - But it has a happy ending, angel! - Of course, my dear. Alas, what happens before gives me the creeps.) _

His third was dedicated to Aziraphale. It told a long and adventurous love story, because Aziraphale had once mentioned how boring their courtship was. Crowley saw nothing boring in it, but he gave Aziraphale the love story he asked for. To make it a surprise, Crowley asked Anathema to help him write it. Aziraphale was ecstatic when he finished reading it, but looked a bit uncomfortable when Crowley told him that he had turned to Anathema for help. Tracy told Aziraphale he was being an idiot.

In hindsight, maybe Crowley should have known better back then.

Anathema was becoming a very good friend, Crowley felt protective towards her. She got along famously with Adam, and Aziraphale seemed to like her too. 

Again, in hindsight, Crowley should have known better. 

He made his family rich by agreeing to an adaptation of his second book (only small screen, complete control of the cast, a screenwriter and a showrunner of his choice, no, he wouldn't leave his husband and son to come on set, yes, he would like a report about every scene being filmed). Bea had represented him from the start and no one would walk away from Bea before agreeing with them. Aziraphale's arsehole of a brother, Gabriel, had a not-so-subtle crush on them. Even Crowley didn't know whether Gabriel's feelings were reciprocated. The feeling of mutual disdain between Gabriel and Crowley was apparent to everyone.

Since their divorce Crowley had written two more books and was working on the third. Seven were planned, a long, long story about memory, of which Crowley had become a student. 

There was a secret process here. He recreated each and every happy moment he had with Aziraphale. His memory was cruelly perfect, but he helped it by supplying his senses with countless small details - he surrounded himself with all sorts of foolish things that reminded him of what he had lost. 

Crowley would sit in his study, close his eyes and remember most vividly. He'd remember the first time he saw Aziraphale, a speck of time so bright it might as well have been a star. Crowley loved him from the start, couldn't contemplate how it could have been any different, what with that clever handsome face, pale blue eyes with a glint of naughtiest mischief in them, the prim posture, the soft smile, the impeccable, although old, clothes. 

Aziraphale's book of essays on Shakespeare was a modern classic in the field, but Crowley didn't expect the author to be so stupidly, impossibly beautiful in every way. 

At first there wasn't a rational explanation for it, but in the end the explanation was right on the nose - they fit. Theirs was elective affinity, brilliant chemistry. They understood each other,  _ saw  _ each other. Unfortunately, as time went by, Aziraphale was losing that sight quite willingly. A natural pessimist with a brother who never missed a chance to degrade him, with colleagues who mocked his style, his manner of speech, his refusal to be anything but a passionate, ardent scholar. Aziraphale was envied for his knowledge, his talent for research, his lack of hurry in anything, apart from his marriage, therefore his divorce was met with glee and pretend compassion. Aziraphale either didn't care or didn't see the insincerity…

Crowley would remember how Aziraphale came home to be greeted by Crowley in a magnificent dress, straight from the 1850s, velvet and silk and embroidery. "My heroine wears it," Crowley explained while Aziraphale was trying to decide whether he wanted to strip Crowley or just ravish him in the dress. "Her maid ravishes her," Crowley added, and Aziraphale made a decision.

Crowley would remember playing with Adam, Aziraphale watching them over his book, blue eyes bright and loving. 

There were enough pearls of such moments and memories of them to write much more than seven books, but if Crowley dared to become the Proust of his generation, then he was going to do it properly. He won his second Booker. The prize was invested into therapy for Aziraphale, Adam and himself. Anathema returned to California to start her workshop for dyslexic writers. 

Unbeknownst to Crowley, when it was announced that Crowley won the prize, Aziraphale expected to see the pictures of his soon-to-be ex-husband with Anathema, and choked on his own heart when the pictures showed him Bea. Crowley was at home with Adam. 

Tracy called Aziraphale that evening, both proud and heartbroken. 

"I helped him like you used to, you know?"

"Why, Anathema is no longer available?"

"Anathema returned to the States, Aziraphale. Crowley complained that I couldn't hold a candle to you."

"Suits him well. Hope his  _ friend  _ got over her heartbreak quickly. He doesn't deserve any pain he causes."

"I'm sixty years old, Aziraphale, but I'm tempted to just stop talking to you. Alas, Crowley begged me not to do it. You're straight out of  _ The Winter's Tale _ , and you remember how it ended. You remember your own essay on it… I sent him to you because he's preciously good with kids. Had I known how you would hurt him, I would have left you to suffer…"

Aziraphale swallowed. "Adam didn't deserve to suffer."

"He didn't. You made him suffer." 

It wasn't helpful of course, but like every person with little self-esteem, Aziraphale was prouder than a Greek god. A part of him knew Crowley wouldn't ever have cheated - for someone so determined to look like temptation incarnate, Crowley was a hopeless liar. Yet a louder part of Aziraphale's mind told him that he had never deserved Crowley, or rather, he wasn't good enough for Crowley, didn't look like David Bowie, both young and old, didn't write unputdownable books (Crowley was one of many readers of Aziraphale's book who missed their morning routine because they had stayed up late, unable to stop reading his witty, well-researched essays), didn't forget to eat, didn't run like a madman with Adam, didn't rush to the nearest bakery at the mention of a croissant. 

Aziraphale had given Crowley exactly what the young writer was obsessed with - the memories of uneventful evenings, all banter, laughter and so much love; tender mornings, tea in bed, Adam snuggling sleepily between them; longing afternoons when Aziraphale would call Crowley  _ just to say I miss you and want you, I had salad for lunch, the one you made for me, I finished my thermos of tea, the one you made for me, you take such a good care of me, darling, I'm so lucky to have you, I love you.  _ Crowley would swoon and sometimes drive with Adam to Oxford to pick Aziraphale up. 

Aziraphale once mentioned that his colleagues didn't believe him, so Bea babysat Adam, and Crowley parked his vintage Bentley obnoxiously and swaggered over to Aziraphale, who had been chatting with some of the worst people in his life, to slither his arm around Aziraphale's waist and purr seductively  _ Been missing you, angel, shall we go home?  _

They laughed the whole drive back. Crowley was flustered. While Aziraphale couldn't believe he was beautiful because nobody told him that, Crowley couldn't believe he was beautiful because he was told about it all the time. They stopped in the middle of nowhere, relatively, and made love in the backseat, like a couple of smitten teenagers. 

Crowley didn't write about those moments, but he made sure to capture that vivid nature of one's most treasured, fondest memories which could take one's breath away and slow down time.

One could work through some real problems, but working through a perceived one proved to be impossible. Aziraphale believed in them like many mathematicians believe in the Riemann hypothesis, but just like those mathematicians, he couldn't prove it. He wouldn't work with something he couldn't prove. 

Being smart and stubborn, Aziraphale wasn't the easiest patient for any psychiatrist. He knew the theories, knew the tricks, knew what to say and when, knew what to ask. Crowley was proud of him and foolishly considered his love for Aziraphale and confidence in him to be quite enough to change Aziraphale's perception of himself…

But to return to that particular morning, Crowley took Adam to school and returned home to resume his work. There were a lot of emails he had to answer, he agreed to write the screenplay for the adaption of his third book, the one Anathema had helped him to write, and another  _ memory study _ he had to complete… His phone rang. 

"Hi, angel," he said.

"Hello, Crowley. I'm afraid I rather made a mess of things."

_ And I miss your voice, miss your face, miss your lips, miss all of you. The irony of using the word "miss" to describe yearning! Yes, I miss you, I lack you. I lost you like a limb, and no prosthetic can ever help me, because it's all of you that I lack.  _

"Everything alright, angel?"

"I remember asking you to stop calling me that."

"Oh, but I still like you, you bastard."

"Crowley, stop it. We worked hard to stop being a bitter couple and become two mature people."

_ Oh no, you worked hard. I sat there and hoped you'd realise how stupid everything was, how the whole thing wasn't even a thing. _

"Aziraphale," Crowley obliged. 

_ Stop saying my name like a prayer, with that husky voice of yours, with your thin lips I know so well, with your entire body shivering with my name, my name, call me by my name again, summon me. _

"Look, I'm afraid I won't be able to come this weekend. I know we've been trying to set it up forever but…"

"Aziraphale, you've been cancelling it for a year. What is it about my house that scares you so much? We're doing it for Adam, after all. The therapist said it could be good for him to spend time with both of us. That's what he misses after all."

"I'm not to blame for this, Crowley! I have a life. I'm quite sure you do too. Tell whoever it is you… fraternise with, that they can stay in your house this weekend. It's for the best after all. I'll take Adam with me to Oxford as usual."

"Fraternise?"

"Oh, whatever you wish to call it! Yet another  _ love of your life. _ "

Aziraphale knew, and knew for sure, that all the damage was of his own making, that he was only succeeding in making more damage, but he couldn't stop. It was about him after all.  _ He  _ was hurting,  _ he  _ was alone while his beautiful, attractive ex-husband was sleeping with anyone he fancied. 

"Angel, I can't be angry with you, and you know it. Stop being an idiot! How can someone as clever as you be so stupid? You're always welcome here. I talked to that nice old lady, she agreed to a good… ok, I bought a cottage for you, alright? So that you can stay there whenever you want. Rent-free. Your cottage. Didn't you get the paperwork?"

"I didn't and you shouldn't have. I come from money, Crowley, I can afford it."

"Well, so can I now. I… I made sure it's… it's to your tastes, angel. The fridge is full, I bought the first or old editions of your favourite books. It's yours."

"Crowley, why would you do it?"

"Adam wants you here. Summer holidays are coming, so… you'll be able to live here as much as you want… can. Whatever. Adam and I, we spent a day in IKEA, so Adam's room there is even better than his at my place. This way Adam can stay with you through the holidays and…"

"And you'll be able to fuck anyone you want at your place. Of course."

"Angel, I haven't fucked anyone other than a pillow since we divorced, ok? When Adam is not with me I write or I walk or I just sleep. We can give him some… togetherness. Let's do it for him, ok?"

"Don't use him as leverage."

"I don't. Want you here, close to us."

_ I'm mad with you. I hate you. I want you. I want to wipe all those sick thoughts out of your mind. You're the only one for me. _

_ Aziraphale looking at him for the first time, Aziraphale moaning over his food, Aziraphale moaning in his arms, Aziraphale kissing his face, Aziraphale's tongue down his mouth, Aziraphale's mouth up his neck, Aziraphale, Aziraphale, Aziraphale.  _

"I… it  _ will be  _ good for Adam, won't it?"

"It will! And you're always welcome to come over to my house. It's yours too. Everything I own is yours, angel."

"Darling… I mean, Crowley, you can't bribe your way back to me."

_ You own me. I kissed someone and fucked someone else. She told me in the morning that it was lovely but that I kept calling her "my Anthony, my husband", and I didn't know what to say. I lost you and I hurt you and I wasted so much time, and I will die loving you, but now… now I don't deserve you for real.  _

"I'm not trying to. I know I can't. Still, we have a child. Let's… let's keep him happy, ok?"

_ Then he'll be with you and I'll fuck my fist thinking of you, thinking of your hands on me, your mouth on me,  _ **_you_ ** _ on me. In me. You in me. You in me, I'm just an extension of you. We fit, angel, we fit, we fit. Come back to me. There's nothing I won't forgive or forget.  _

_ They say it only happens in movies and books, but I was there, angel, when you opened the door and took my heart like a pizza delivery. Took my heart, shaped it according to your whim. I saw you in pyjamas, I walked in on you when you showered, I knew the smell and sound and sight of you before I knew the taste or the touch of you. I miss you. _

"I'm sorry, dear boy. I'll come this weekend. Need to be brave, of course. Need to do it for Adam."

_ Adam is great. Adam is our child. Why can't I let you go? I should have, I should have.  _

_ So Aziraphale would fuck another stranger and call them  _ **_dear Anthony, my love, my husband_ ** _ , and cast them away in the morning.  _

"Great! Thank you, angel… I mean, Aziraphale. We'll be waiting."


	3. Chapter 3

"Is papa coming this weekend?" Adam asked over dinner. Being outside so much, his light brown hair had turned yellow blond, and his skin was the colour of creme brulee, as Aziraphale would have put it… "Dad? Did you tell him about the cottage? Did you tempt him like we agreed you'd do?"

"I did."

"You miss him embarrassingly, you know?" 

"And you don't?"

"Well, I get my weekends with him, he spoils me rotten," Adam smirked.

"That he does," Crowley smiled. His well-trained Proustian mind slipped into memories, which was quite unwelcome, but he couldn't help it.  _ My dear, I'm old, I only have one child, so I will spoil him all l like. I spoil you too, silly darling. - We can always have more, you know? Why don't we have more? Adam would love a sibling. I would like another child with you. - Darling, don't say things like that. - Why not? - Because Adam is still awake and I want you when you're being all… you. - Which is? - You. Soft and loving, beautiful like… I have no words for you, Crowley. Whyever do you stay with me? - Because I love you. - There you go again, all… In love and in love with me… I begin to miss you when I remember the time without you. How dare you have left me alone for fifty years?  _

"Dad? DAD?!" 

"Sorry, kid. Zoned out."

"I noticed. So?"

"So?"

"Is he coming?"

"He is, he is. We'll see him on Friday. Shut your eyes, think of chocolate ice cream and shove some broccoli into your mouth, ok?"

***

Once Adam was fast asleep, sprawled like a starfish in his bed  _ (He has a double bed at yours? Oh, that explains why he falls all the time at mine! - Well, he tends to sprawl. - Crowley, you tend to sprawl. You could never use a piece of furniture properly. - Well, he's half my kid, isn't he? Also, Mr Steal-the-blanket, you can talk. - Oh, so that's what you meant citing  _ **_irreconcilable differences_ ** _ as a reason for divorce? - Sure thing, angel… - Stop calling me that. - Sure thing, Aziraphale. It was all over a blanket, nothing else.),  _ Crowley called Aziraphale. He allowed himself such indulgences every now and then, but Aziraphale in the evening was far more  _ Aziraphale  _ than Aziraphale during the day. 

"Hi, ex."

"Hello, Crowley. Is everything alright?"

"Yes, yes, sure. Just wanted to tell you that Adam is very excited about you coming this weekend.  _ (Don't get too excited, dad. He's gonna be his usual fussy self when he comes. - Hey, no talking like that about papa! - I'll talk like I want, dad. He hurt you. Just… I love him all the same. Isn't it strange? - It isn't. I love him all the same too. - How can you get back together? - We can't, Adam. He doesn't want me anymore. - Have I ever mentioned that you're literally everything he's talking about? - You have. - Don't believe me? - Believe you totally, kid. - I even mentioned Anathema a couple of times. - That's mean, Adam. - No, that's fair. All's fair in love and anything. - You're a Satan's offspring, you know, right? - Demon. - Antichrist. - Love you, dad. - Fuck them all, I love you too, Adam. Sleep well.) _

"So am I, dear boy… I mean Crowley. How was his day?"

"Well, it was great, as usual. They are doing this research project about the local flora. It's wicked. Got so involved myself we went to bed at eleven two days ago."

"So curious, you both. You'll be the death of me."

"We're doing our best, an… Aziraphale. He's so tanned, you won't believe it."

"Oh, it was quite surprising to have a week of sun, wasn't it?"

"He's beautiful. His hair is almost as white as yours now."

"Oh dear. Our son has the sun as his stylist. We'll never live up to that."

"I haven't thought about it that way, and now I'm going to cry."

"Crowley… My dear, please, don't cry."

"Kidding!" Crowley swallowed his tears.

"Of course you are! Fiend!"

"Yeah, that's me. We'll pick you up at the station?"

"Oh, you really don't have to… Would be so nice of you, though. Might have too much luggage."

"As you always do. Remember that weekend in Paris?"

"Stop reminding me of it!"

"Won't. Adam and I had a backpack each, his with toys alone, and you brought two fucking suitcases."

"You slept in my shirts!"

"But I always slept in your shirts. I slept in the one I had in my backpack."  _ I still sleep in your shirts. I stole a few.  _

"Really? Oh… never occurred to me. It was a good weekend though."

"Oh, totally. Adam whined his way through the Louvre and you whined your way through Disneyland."

"As far as I remember, you joined Adam in whining your way through the Louvre."

"I prefer a good rollercoaster any day!"

"And you're a writer… oh good Lord! You were soaking wet, both of you, when you emerged from that pirate ride."

"You didn't complain. You locked me in the bathroom after!"

"I was there, Crowley, I remember. I couldn't suck you off with Adam asleep next to us."

"Point taken. I'm glad we can talk like this."

"Oh…"

"Surprised?"

"No, I just… yes. Yes, you're right of course. This is much better."

_ Adam doesn't want to see you. - Of course he doesn't! What did you tell him? How dare you turn him against me? I should have taken him with me, I should… - Your schedule doesn't allow for it, you bastard! I didn't tell him anything. Told him only that we love him and that I hurt you. - Oh, really? Must have been really good with your wording, Crowley, if he is angry with me and not with you! You ruined it, you ruined our lives. - I'll never get tired of telling you that I did nothing of the kind. I'm not lying to him. - You imply that I am? - Well, I'm not interrogating you about what  _ **_you_ ** _ told him. - I'm not telling him his dad is a cheater. He loves you too much to take it! - Oh, so noble, aren't you? - Yes, I am! And in return, you make him hate me! - He doesn't hate you! He thinks you're the one who ruined it, and believe me, I did my best to explain it to him that it was  _ **_my_ ** _ fault. - You're a bloody demon, Crowley. You're telling me you didn't cheat but then you take the blame… Make up your mind! - I'm not telling him his papa has such a low self-esteem that he thought I would want anyone but him! - Crowley, you're being ridiculous. -  _ **_You_ ** _ are being ridiculous. I don't know why I'm still talking to you. - Well, neither do I! You gave me a happy life and snatched it away from me. You don't care about me, you never have! - How dare you! - I'm not the one fucking their student! - I didn't fuck anyone! I came to you a bloody virgin! - I don't believe it. I never have. - Pity! I never lied to you. - You're too stupid to be a capable liar. - You're too stupid to think that I would want someone who isn't you! _

"Yeah. It's good. All good… Look, we bought you a toothbrush and pyjamas… Adam picked them, tartan, ugly as fuck, just how you like it."

"Why, thank you, my dear, for your endorsement."

"You're welcome. I bought you some shirts, very fancy. A few bowties. So, you see, you don't have to bring that many suitcases."

"As far as I remember, there has always been a place for my things in your car."

"There is, there is! But we'll come to pick you up straight from shopping. Would you like to have dinner together? My place, your place, neutral ground."

"Oh, your charming town doesn't have any proper neutral ground. We should do the Ritz some time, the three of us."

"Not this week, angel… Fuck, sorry. Not this week, Aziraphale. Maybe next? We could meet in London, then drive back to Folkestone. Sounds tempting?"

"Temptation accomplished, my… Crowley. Anything else you wanted to tell me?"

_ I miss you. I want you. I need you. I can't sleep without you pressed chest to back, I can't breathe without you, I can't without you. _

"No. Looking forward to seeing you, that's it."

"Me too. I think we'd have dinner at mine… it's all yours, isn't it?"

"No, it's all yours, Aziraphale. I didn't buy you a cottage to… I don't know what you're implying, but I never do."

_ You thought, no, you  _ **_think_ ** _ I could cheat on you, but I see you and there's nothing else. _

"I don't want to have another bitter conversation, Crowley. I'll see you on Friday. It's only two days ahead."

"Of course, of course… sorry I bothered you."

"You never bother me, m… Crowley. We have a child after all."

_ That's why we'll always be married. That's why we'll never manage to escape each other. I never want to escape you. Why can't you believe me? I only ever loved you. Thought I couldn't love before you. Never fell in love. Never dated. Never kissed anyone. Then you came, and everything I could do was to kiss you, to date you, to love you… You married me. Adam was asleep, holding on to Bea like a koala. I wore black and you wore white, I would let you choose a place for our celebratory lunch, and you picked a tiny Chinese restaurant. You taught Adam how to eat noodles with his hands, ignoring my pleas to teach him how to use at least a fork…  _

"Good night, angel. Good night, Aziraphale. I hope you'll sleep well."

"I never do, my dear."

"That's you at your most open, most vulnerable."

"I suppose it is. All guards down, just a silly old man, drunk and confused, and an insomniac."

"Why are you confused?"

"My perpetual state, Crowley. I was raised to doubt myself."

"Doesn't it hurt?"

"You've always asked me this… You can't really cancel marriage, can you?"

"I'm afraid you can't."

"Why… why did you… But no, I don't want to argue, I don't want to hear your excuses. You made me happy, Crowley. I didn't know I had it in me before you."

"Please, don't talk like this. You know… Good night, angel."

"Sing to me."

Crowley swallowed. He'd sing to Aziraphale sometimes to make him laugh, because Crowley turned all wistful and terribly sentimental when he sang.

_ "Close your eyes. Rest your head on my shoulder and sleep, close your eyes, and I will close mine. Close your eyes, let's pretend that we're both counting sheep, close your eyes. Oh this is divine! Music plays, something dreamy for dancing while we're here romancing, it's love's holiday, and love will be our guide… Close your eyes. When you open them, dear, I'll be near, by your side. Oh won't you close your eyes?" _

Crowley was crying in earnest now, so he moved his hand away from his face so that Aziraphale couldn't hear it.

"Thank you, dearest. I'll see you in two days."

"Bye, angel."

The phone on the nightstand, and the time, irrelevant. There once was a night when he came to bed after an argument and lavished Aziraphale with praises and kisses and love, so much love, it had to be physically impossible to lose that much love.  _ Catch your breath, catch your breath. - I don't want to breathe without you, darling. - I'm here, angel, it's alright. - What have you done to me, what have you done? - I love you, so I made love to you, and it was good, wasn't it? - You took my very essence and turned me into something new, you did, you did.  _

Crowley fell asleep angrily.

***

Adam climbed up to sit on the roof of Crowley's Bentley, binoculars on his neck. He watched the crowd, stirred up at the sound of every train coming. Crowley was smoking a few steps away. 

"We should have picked him up from Oxford," he told Adam.

"No, papa has to learn to use public transport. He's hopeless with it," Adam was glued to his binoculars. "There he is!"

"How do I look?" Crowley straightened up and put his cigarette down. 

"Like a smitten fool you are," Adam replied without looking.

"You're one mean child, do you know that?"

"I do. You keep telling me so."

"You're being a little shit."

"Language, dad."

"Oh, you could talk! You see me through, mock me and then complain about my language…"

Adam jumped off the car straight into Aziraphale's arms. 

"Good lord, you're heavy, Adam. How are you, dear boy?"

Crowley smiled at them, then took Aziraphale's luggage to put in the car. 

"Shall we go?"

"Oh papa, you have to see the cottage. My room there is wicked! And I'm staying with you right away. Isn't it great?"

"It is, my dear." Aziraphale smiled bashfully at Crowley who was holding the door for him. "Thank you. Always the gentleman."

"Nah, I'm not." Crowley closed the door. 

The drive was lively, Adam wouldn't shut up for a blessed moment and Aziraphale teased Crowley. "So you told me I had a fridge full of food. Must have gone bad, m?"

Adam chuckled viciously. "I told dad it was a bad idea. Don't worry, we had enough time to clean the fridge and stock it all over again."

"And we're to be greeted by so many vegetables, aren't we?" Aziraphale pouted at Crowley. 

"He stuffs me with these evil green things!"

"Kids have to eat vegetables! And fruit. Once you're an adult, you can eat all the junk you want. And all the sinful delicacies papa is so fond of."

"I hope you brought some of these too, my… Crowley."

"He did." Adam smirked.

He suddenly pushed forward, tightening the seatbelt across his body, to hold Aziraphale from behind. "Missed you, papa, it's so cool you've come." He sat back. "I'm proud of you. We both are. Aren't we, dad?"

"Oh, certainly, certainly." Crowley frantically nodded. Aziraphale remained motionless and on the brink of tears. 

"I embarrassed you both." Adam was awfully proud of himself.

"I'm not embarrassed," said both men simultaneously. 

"Just emotional," added Crowley, as Aziraphale replied that he was genuinely touched. 

"Nah, you're embarrassed alright."

"Don't gloat, Antichrist!"

"Crowley, you shouldn't call him that."

"I like being called that! It's kinda spooky."

"Still, I think it's inappropriate."

"Papa, you're no fun at all."

"Adam!" 

"What, dad? You're no fun either. Just two boring grownups."

"We're your parents, Adam…" Aziraphale began.

"Don't I know it. And right now you're no fun. It's a shame really. We used to have much fun together."

Perhaps Adam aimed for the uncomfortable silence that followed his words, because he looked too smug. 

"And we still can have fun together," the boy continued.

Crowley wanted to agree and Aziraphale wanted to disagree out of the same self-destructive urge to keep ruining whatever they had now. 

Luckily, they arrived at Aziraphale's cottage. 

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

The conversation in the car was swept under the nearest carpet - a very adult thing to do, of course - in favour of showing Aziraphale around the house. 

Adam's room was of course the first, while Crowley took Aziraphale's things to his room. Crowley lingered there.  _ How twisted have I become if I made him a bedroom where I will never sleep… I definitely won't be a creep about it, I won't.  _ He shook his head chasing away  _ creepy  _ thoughts.  _ Bohemian, I'm bohemian, not a creep. I might smoke too much and drink my first glass of wine at ten in the morning, but that's just my own grownup coping mechanisms… Bloody hell. _

Crowley joined Adam and Aziraphale, who were finishing the tour in the kitchen.

"So, ex, what do you think?" Crowley asked, as cheery as a box of stale Cheerios.

"Well…" Aziraphale occupied himself with making some tea. Later in the evening he would realise that all the supplies were organised exactly how he liked it - a bit chaotically, without a proper system behind it. Crowley would always sort things alphabetically and according to colour and actually it used to drive Aziraphale tenderly mad. "It's very…" 

Adam and Crowley held their breath, but Adam decided it was stupid and went for the ice-cream… it was dairy-free with low sugar. 

"Papa, we're going to the shops. Look at the abomination dad bought us!" 

"Oh good lord! That won't do!" Aziraphale raised an eyebrow and looked at Crowley with so much teasing in his face, Crowley knew he was in trouble - and loved it.

"Argh… Ngk… Ngh…  **_You_ ** are going to stuff him with sugar! And cream! And…"

"And every good thing, my dear boy," Aziraphale finished, sliding his arm around Adam's shoulders. The boy leaned into the touch, somewhat overplaying the image of a touch-starved cat. "Our son deserves the best." 

Adam looked at his dad triumphantly.

"Young man, stop pretending you're being miserable with dad." Aziraphale scolded, quite unexpectedly for Adam. 

"Dad's right, you're a bastard." The boy grumpily moved away.

"Hey, language!" Both parents yelled.

"I  **_am_ ** a bastard though," Aziraphale purred.

Crowley rolled his eyes and put his sunglasses back on. "So, what do you think?"

"It's very me, m… it's very me."

"Of course it is! It's your place."

"But… there's not a single touch of you. How did you manage it?"

"I'm full of surprises, I guess."

"That you are, Crowley. Thank you. It's a lovely gift, to say the least. It's so nice of you."

"I'm still allergic to the word  _ nice _ , angel."

"I still hope that careful exposure to it might heal you, my dear."

They stared at each other for a long, long moment, and Crowley had never been more aware of the relative nature of time. Loud chewing made them look at Adam. They boy was shoving spoonfuls of dairy-free, low sugar ice cream into his mouth. 

"You two… are embarrassing."

"Adam, no ice cream before lunch!" Crowley opted for being a strict parent. As per usual, he failed.

"Nah, papa's house, papa's rules. We eat dessert for lunch."

"We do," Aziraphale smiled at his boy. "Not all the time of course," he hastily added. "Crowley, I'm even worse at denying him things, you know. That's why he agreed to spend time with me, didn't you, child?"

"No," Adam replied calmly, a frighteningly serious look on his face. "I agreed to spend time with you because although you're an idiot and a bastard, you're my papa and I love you." He shoved another spoonful into his mouth.

"Not that bad when you get used to it?" Crowley offered, breaking the uncomfortable, grownup silence. "Also, language."

"For this," Adam slowly put the spoon and the box down on the counter, "you will have to catch me!" And off he ran.

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged a look and rushed after him.

"I will catch you and make you eat broccoli alone for a month!" Crowley yelled.

"Dear, I will save you!" Aziraphale shouted. 

It was difficult enough to run, let alone up the stairs, but Crowley was laughing, and Adam was too, giggling and rejoicing in his mischief.

Aziraphale grabbed Crowley's elbow and hissed "You're making too much noise, we'll never catch him like that."

They ran around the house some more, until Adam asked from his hiding place whether he could jump out of the window.

"On the ground floor!" Crowley replied. 

"Go for it, dear boy, but use the front door to return." Aziraphale said. They let Adam escape and sat in the living room breathing heavily. 

"I'm soft." Aziraphale winced.

"One of your many redeeming qualities," Crowley answered. They burst out laughing. 

Adam returned through the front door and snuggled between his parents. "Papa, you're so warm… Dad is always… sharp and cold."

"That's not true," Aziraphale replied and blushed. 

"It is though." Crowley tried to come to Aziraphale's rescue as he always would.

"No, it's not. You just need two blankets and me to keep you warm… I'm so sorry. Forgetting myself here."

"Counted on it," Adam giggled.

"Antichrist!"

"That's me. I'm very proud of myself."

"You should be." Crowley messed the boy's hair. "I'd be on my way then, so that you can eat your murderous food all you like."

"Nah, stay!" Adam demanded. 

"Adam, I can't. It's papa's house…"

"Papa wants you to stay. Don't you?" He looked up at Aziraphale.

"My dear, dad might want to do something on his own."

Adam stood up and stared at Aziraphale with bitter anger. "I want you to choke on your lunch!" He yelled. "You're stupid, so fucking stupid!" He ran up to his room and shut the door loudly.

"I'm sorry," Crowley offered. 

"I can't believe… Why is he like that? What have you told him?"

"He's hurting. Every child in a divorce does…"

"Yes, but what happened wasn't  **_my_ ** fault."

Crowley didn't reply. He stood up, took his keys and went for the door. 

"I'm always available, in case you two need something," he said without turning back to look at Aziraphale, and left.

Aziraphale stayed where he was for half an hour, then slowly walked up to Adam's room. He knocked.

"I'm sorry," Adam said from behind the door.

"May I come in? I'm not cross, I swear."

"Ok."

Aziraphale gently pushed the door open. Adam was sitting on the window sill playing with his Legos. 

"All those cozy nooks and lovely cushions on the floor and this magnificent swing, and you still prefer the window." Aziraphale walked closer to the boy.

"Dad bought the swing. Cursed like a drunk sailor when he was hanging it." Adam chuckled. He avoided looking at Aziraphale and continued building something.

"Of course he would. Of course he would…"

"Papa, can you be honest with me?"

"I like to think I'm always honest with you."

"Do you really believe that dad would cheat on you?"

Aziraphale was hit by the question so hard, he stumbled back and sat on Adam's bed.

"Please. Please, be honest with me." The boy's eyes were red. 

"I… I've never believed he cheated on me," Aziraphale admitted. "I mean… I did, for an hour or so."

"So, you just stopped loving him and blamed him for it? Don't worry, papa, I might be rude and stuff, but I'll always love you."

"Oh you precious thing!" Aziraphale rushed to Adam and held him close. "You're so clever, my boy, so, so clever… you're only eight, Adam, it should be illegal to be so clever this early."

"Don't dodge my question," Adam asked into Aziraphale's waistcoat.

"I… I could never believe someone like dad would love me. I got used to the idea that no one would ever want me, let alone so ardently, so faithfully, so thinking he cheated on me was easier. Made him responsible. Gave me a higher moral ground."

"Papa, this is stupid."

"It is, dear boy, it is. But… I don't know what you see, when you look at us… so I'll tell you my perspective. Dad is beautiful. He's silly and funny and witty and kind. He's so talented! He used to tell me he loved me the moment I opened the door for him, but I could never allow myself to admit that I loved him long before that. I had been missing him for so long… And he's almost twenty years younger, he's  _ cool,  _ he's sexy. Now, look at me. I'm an aging scholar, I'm not very well liked by my peers and colleagues, but the students seem to like me, the way one would like their weird old uncle. I love food, I love wine. I love every comfort this body of ours can bring, every pleasure it can experience… It's been so hard to accept that I could be loved… Do you think you can understand?"

"Oh, papa!" Adam sobbed and climbed into Aziraphale's arms. "I wish I could beat the crap out of uncle Gabriel for all your thoughts… I'll ask pibling Bea to do it."

Aziraphale laughed through the tears of his own, nuzzled the boy's shoulder. 

"I think we should start on some very indulgent cooking, dear boy. We'll feed dad so well, he'll agree to never buy that stuff he calls ice cream."

Adam sniffled and laughed. "Yeah… sorry I made a scene."

"It's alright. I understand."

"You would, you old drama emperor." Adam raised his head from Aziraphale's shoulder to look at him. "I love you the way you are."

"Oh, I love you too, my dear boy! Come on. What shall we cook? Did you make sure dad bought proper cheese and pasta and mushrooms?"

"Of course I did!"

"And salmon?"

"Sure!.. Are you suggesting…"

"Well, I certainly am making you fettuccine with salmon and cream sauce. I live to spoil you, Adam." 

***

Adam cut his finger grating the cheese, so Aziraphale used the break in cooking while he was taking care of the cut, to call Crowley.

"Hi, ex."

"Hello, my dear, I mean Crowley…"

"Dad, I cut my finger, grating the cheese. You said I can't cut my fingers grating stuff."

"Crowley, he's alright."

"Of course he is. It's just a cut. You guys ok?"

"We're awesome, dad. Papa is torturing me and can't put a bandaid properly but we're doing fine!"

"Hey, you can put the bandaid yourself."

"Daaaad, I want to be pampered."

"Papa's boy."

"So are you, dad!"

Crowley choked on air and then coughed. Aziraphale decided to show him mercy.

"My… Anyway, we wanted to have dinner together, didn't we? Adam and I are making fettuccine with salmon, so you think you could come over in an hour or so?"

"Oh… oh… we did!"

"It's ok if you're busy or…"

"I'm coming right now. Should I bring anything? Do you want flowers? A cake?"

"He wants a moon shining out of your arse!" Adam rolled his eyes. 

"Language!" Both Aziraphale and Crowley yelled.

"I'm on my way, angel. Aziraphale. And Adam."

"Mind how you go."

"Yeah, whatever."

"Adam! Please, the fact that you know… things doesn't mean you get to embarrass us all the time!" Aziraphale frowned.

"And where is the fun in that? You're being silly, both of you, so… reap what you sow."

"How very wise of you."

***

Crowley arrived before Aziraphale managed to put away the first aid kit. He stormed the house, all saunter, swagger, tight pants, black shirt and something that could be called a scarf only by someone used to working with a microscope.

"Everyone's alive and well?" Crowley asked. He placed some obnoxiously and suspiciously fresh roses in a vase Aziraphale hadn't known he owned.

"Are they yours, Crowley?" 

"What?" Crowley nervously downed a glass of Chardonnay.

"They are. Dad yells at them when he can't yell at Bea." Adam tried to steal a mushroom from the salad, but was thwarted by Aziraphale who gently removed Adam's hand away from the bowl.

"My dear, why would you yell at Bea?" 

"Well… they… they help me write, you know? And I thank them by yelling at them… Well, you don't have any illusions about my moral character. I'm a demon."

"Oh you wish, my lo… You wish, Crowley. You wish. Thank you. The flowers are beautiful." Aziraphale smelled the roses and hummed in appreciation.

  
  


***

It always worked the best when neither of them thought too much and just allowed the things to take their course, which in their case had always been kind, spoiling even, and so, quite naturally, what with the food and wine, both Aziraphale and Crowley relaxed, laughed, annoyed Adam affectionately, and pretended to be annoyed when Adam returned the favour. 

Crowley did the dishes, Aziraphale herded Adam into the bathroom and made sure he brushed his teeth. 

Aziraphale was reading to Adam when Crowley walked into the room for a hug and a kiss. "Dad, you should stay," Adam asked sleepily. "Want you both here…He smiled, snuggling closer to Aziraphale. Crowley shot a questioning look at Aziraphale. He gestured towards the space on the other side of Adam's bed. 

"That was nice," Crowley whispered when Adam was definitely asleep, but Aziraphale kept reading to him.

"Oh… oh… right. Yes, yes, it was. I don't know why I was worried so much about it."

"You had your reasons, ang… Aziraphale. Shall we… let him sleep?"

***

Downstairs Aziraphale poured Crowley another glass of wine. "This place is fantastic, Crowley. Thank you." 

"Shut up!" Crowley gulped the wine.

"So… shouldn't call you nice? Or kind? Or even say you did a good job?" With each compliment Aziraphale took a step closer, so bright and beautiful, naughty, so intimately known and equally as much knowing.

He must have realised what he had been doing because he suddenly stopped and turned aside. Crowley was sprawled against the kitchen counter, breathing heavily. 

"You… you know, angel, I'm… not nice. Or kind. I'm… a demon, right."

Aziraphale hummed in agreement, refusing to look at Crowley.  _ I could have held you now. We could have kissed here. I could have been waiting for you and you, the same… What have I done? Can you ever… could we ever? Want you here, now, what have I done, what have I done?  _

"Aziraphale, are you alright?" Crowley's ever gentle hands touched Aziraphale's elbows. 

"Q… quite, my… quite well, my dear. Just, you know, overwhelmed. It's been lovely, being all together again."

"It was!" Crowley laughed, but somehow it still sounded like a sob. "Maybe… maybe if you like it here, you'll be… amenable to…"

"I slept with someone. With several someones."

At this confession, Crowley became silent and heartbreakingly lost.

"And… and… if I may… was it good for you? Do you… like any of them?"

"No, I don't. I didn't. I was lonely, I… missed you."

"You only ever had to call, you know." This time Crowley definitely sobbed. 

"Dearest, I'm sorry… I'm so sorry."

"Me too, angel…" Crowley covered his face. "I sh… should go, right?"

"I'd… rather you didn't."

"I can't stay, though. If… if I stay, it's…" Crowley sobbed again, louder and more desperate.

"My dear, I'm… I'm sorry. Please…"

"I'm not jealous, you know. Just… I don't know. Heartbroken, I guess. Didn't know I had something left there to break." Crowley chuckled. "I'll… I'll go, ok? Let me go, angel. We'll talk about it later. If you want of course…"

"I've made a mess of things, yet again…"

"No, not of things, just of me, angel, but it's alright." Crowley smiled, that lovely, sardonic smile of his.

"They… they told me I kept calling them by your name."

"Oh, this is awkward. Really, angel, that was mean of you."

"I  **_am_ ** rather mean, dearest, as it turns out."

"Good night, angel. I'll see you whenever you call me, I guess. And… you're leaving on Sunday, right? So… I'll come to pick you up, drive you to the station, you know. Can you hold me, please?"

Aziraphale let out a sobbing laugh of his own and wrapped Crowley in his arms. 

"Thank you, angel. I'll see you. Good night. Tell the boy I love him."


	5. Chapter 5

Crowley woke up to the sound of the 

distant waves and maddening chatter of birds and something rather painful in his eyes. His mind, which at this point could be recognised as a very obsessive spirit of Proust, supplied him with a memory even before he could remember the right words or understand where he was. 

_ They got shamelessly drunk on their first anniversary. Adam was fast asleep - in their bed, so  _ **_there goes my scrupulous plan of seduction_ ** _ , Crowley said, to which Aziraphale giggled. They stood over their son and were embarrassing.  _

_ Adam woke up, got off the bed without any explanation and moved his sleepy body to his room and his bed. His parents continued giggling and cooing as they tucked him in. _

**_Gosh, I hoped I was sexier._ **

**_You are, my dear. Shall we? You mentioned a plan, didn't you?_ **

_ So they woke up naked and with headaches. Aziraphale tried to cover his eyes and complained about those  _ **_star needles_ ** _.  _

**_Do you mean sun rays, angel?_ **

**_Well, apparently._ **

**_Then let the star needles patch you up!_ **

Crowley laughed at the memory. It really was a great morning - for the first time since that night when Aziraphale took his things and left, Crowley felt hopeful. He had always been hopeful, but he had come to accept this hope as a chronic illness. There was nothing ill in how he was feeling. He closed his eyes concentrating on the white noise, making it clearer and deafeningly loud in his head - there, out of miscellaneous sounds, a new day was coming.

***

Aziraphale woke up because someone sat on him. He slowly opened his eyes to see Adam straddling him. 

"Tis I, your sleep demon," Adam introduced himself. "I have an idea."

"Adam, I can't breathe."

"You can. You're talking."

"Oh Lord, dad would have snatched you and tickled you… alas, I can't do that. Please, get off my chest."

"What sort of a sleep demon I would be, if I just listen to what puny humans like you say?"

"I don't know, the sort that lets their old papa breathe?"

"Fair enough." Adam dropped on the pillows next to Aziraphale. "Now you have to listen and listen carefully."

"Alright. Is it something terribly mischievous and confusing?"

"A bit. You'll thank me later."

"I doubt that, but I'm all ears."

"Good old papa," Adam cooed. "Call dad, tell him something."

"Just… something?"

"Preferably that you never believed he cheated on you."

"Adam!"

"Don't Adam me! Call dad and tell him."

"I told him yesterday, when you were asleep, that I… I had a few dates."

"You shagged someone?"

"Adam, how come you know words like that?"

"Pibling Bea. Don't worry. I've received a thorough lecture from dad that when two or more consenting adults undress each other with their eyes, they get to do all sorts of gross stuff, like you and dad used to. I mean, what's the point of sticking your tongue down anyone's throat?"

Aziraphale gulped. "It can be… surprisingly pleasant, you know, with the right kind of tongue and throat."

"Spare me the details, you… naughty old man." Adam giggled. 

"So anyway, I'm going to make you some tea… No, it might be too dangerous for me. I'm going to read a book and you're going to call dad, and until you do, I get no breakfast." Adam jumped off the bed and disappeared behind the door.

Aziraphale found his phone. He couldn't really leave his boy hungry, but… 

_ Anthony Crowley, Anthony Crowley, it rolled on his tongue like a dollop of particularly thick honey, all sweetness and somewhat elusive texture, just one call, just one fall, just one thing he could allow himself in the name of Adam's health… just one.  _

**_There's no one else for me, angel, do you know that? I have a good imagination but I can't imagine anyone better for me. You're mine, you were made mine, and I was made specifically for you, or so it seems… Oh don't give me your gloomy Dane and his words, words, words. I have a very complicated relationship with words, but with you it's easier than cocoa and milk… Nothing easy about that of course… Like Goethe and Schiller? Like your gloomy Dane and his gloom? Like a matching sock?_ **

Aziraphale pressed the call button.

"Hey, Aziraphale. Everything alright? You slept well?" Crowley sounded frantic and nervous - so flustered after one hug.

"I never believed you cheated."

"What?"

"I never believed you cheated."

"Oh… good, I guess… and… you just stopped loving me?"

"That's what Adam said. He demanded I'd call you and tell you… Said he won't eat until I do."

"That's our boy."

"I'm so sorry."

"So am I, angel. It's… you didn't answer."

"I never stopped loving you." Aziraphale bit his lip. "Maybe… you…"

"I never stopped loving you either. Didn't even try. You're the best thing that happened to me. I don't want to get over you. I did my best to never be over you."

Aziraphale sobbed.

"Oh no, angel, please, don't cry! You know, I woke up today and I… I felt hopeful. Something… something's gotta give, you know? It's gonna be alright, angel, one way or another, just tell me what you want."

"I ruined it. All of it."

"No, angel, no! To ruin something of ours you need to find someone less stubborn than I am, and I'm impossibly stubborn when it comes to you. You're always forgiven, blast it, you never even needed forgiveness. You're messy and human and I love you so, so much. Do you want some time with Adam alone? We could have a picnic by the Roman fort. We could drive somewhere, the three of us. How… how does it sound?"

"You can't do this, Crowley, can't just let me be this… failure of a man, of a father and of a husband and…"

"Ok, angel, I climbed out of the shower for you, so right now I'm causing a small flood and wearing absolutely nothing but soap. I'll come over, ok? I'll make you anything you and Adam want to eat. We'll figure out what to do, you hear me? We'll eat and… and we can cuddle and watch something or we can cuddle and read something or we can go for a picnic and cuddle there. Despite what it sounds like, cuddling is not the main thing. You're still with me, angel? Just… let me finish, ok? I can talk to you all the time, but it's gonna come along as lots of water noises and probably some singing."

"You… I'm waiting. I'll be waiting for you to come, my dear."

"Sure. I won't slip and fall. Promise."

***

"Did you slip and fall?" Aziraphale asked, concerned, when he opened the door to Crowley with a huge bruise on his forehead.

"I might have." Crowley smiled. 

"There you are," Aziraphale whispered. "Why… why did you come?"

"You called me. Not an idiot, angel. Let's get our hungry beast fed." Crowley, however, remained standing where he was. "You have to ask me to come in, angel," he prompted with a wicked smirk.

"Please, do come in, my dear," Aziraphale invited. 

They found Adam on his window, reading. The boy had to be carried downstairs so that he could continue reading, until a plateful of eggs and toast was placed in front of him. Adam took in his food and sighed happily, then he finally pretended to just have noticed that Crowley was there.

"Oh, are we having an awkward outing, all three of us?"

"We definitely are," Crowley grinned. "Very awkward."

"Dad thought we could have a picnic," Aziraphale said, meaningfully.

"Oh, a picnic." Adam wiggled his eyebrows. "Just don't do anything gross, please."

"You mean, like, sneezing into your plate?" Crowley asked innocently.

"Ew. I was talking about, you know, kissing and such."

"Kissing? There'd be no kissing!" Crowley put his hand against his chest, scandalised. "I'm just taking my son and my gentleman friend on a fancy walk to the Roman fort."

"Yeah, I know how you get," Adam replied around a mouthful of food.

"I have no idea what you're talking about!" Crowley took pity on blushing Aziraphale.

"Once you're done with food, kid, go fetch the picnic basket, ok?"

"Just tell me you want to be alone."

"Well, you're the one who says we're doing some gross stuff."

"Oh dear, spare me your fluffy… fluff!" Adam finished his plate and ran away in search of the basket. 

"That was very kind of you," Aziraphale said quietly. He looked at Crowley indecisively, then took a step forward, rocked on the heels of his feet and gingerly pushed his head on Crowley's shoulder. Immediately Crowley's arms wrapped him in a loose embrace. 

"Shut up!" Crowley replied, grinning. "You know…" He rubbed his cheek against Aziraphale's hair. "You know I like that you're older… I mean I would have loved to have known you your whole life, but as things stand… I'm so lucky to have met you, to have learned so much from you, to get to take care of you… fuck, angel, there's nothing I love more than taking care of you."

Aziraphale grabbed at Crowley's arms. 

"It won't be easy, darling."

"It won't," Crowley agreed. "I'm trying very hard not to interrogate you about your lovers… that's wicked of me."

"It is, darling… they were… I don't remember them, I was drunk."

"Oh love, you really should have called."

"And told you what?  _ Oh hi, Crowley, I broke your heart, but you know, I'm horny." _

"And I would have told you that I'll be there in a moment… Well, I would have told you I would have loved to help you, but Adam is asleep, so… why won't you come over to mine?" Crowley casually pulled Aziraphale into a tighter hug. 

"I… thank you, my dear."

"Forget about it. What should we pack for the picnic?"

"Please don't be so kind to me."

"Angel, if you want me to punish you, I'm afraid it'll have to wait."

Aziraphale pushed his hands under Crowley's henley. "Darling… I'm so sorry."

"It's only been two years, my broken heart and Adam's trauma."

"You're not making it any easier."

"Oh sorry. Thought you mentioned my broken heart? Gonna have my revenge and tease you."

"Please don't." 

"Alright, I won't…" Crowley kissed the top of Aziraphale's head. "It won't be easy, but… we'll be together. We'll be together, right? Have I misread?"

"No, no, you haven't. Let's… let's try again. I've missed you so much."

"Angel, why did you do it?"

"I thought I didn't deserve you… and for a moment I had such a solid proof of this theory."

"Angel, it was a shitty proof."

"I thought I was saving us both from disappointment and… "

"Oh shut up. You're so clever! How can someone as clever as you be so stupid!"

"Alright, I'm thoroughly convinced, no need to explain any further."

"Convinced of what, angel?"

"You seem to know it just as well."

"Oh I do, but I'd like you to say it."

Aziraphale looked up at Crowley.

"That you love me."

"Good! That's the only thing you need to know for today. I'll let go now, angel. We need to prepare the picnic."

Crowley carefully pushed Aziraphale away. "There. I'll hold you again, I swear. Could do it all the time, and you know it."

"I do, my dear."

Crowley nodded and began cooking. He wanted to spoil them both, Aziraphale and Adam, so he went easy on vegetables and used a lot of cheese, he chopped the cucumbers and tomatoes  _ just to give it a crunch and some additional flavour, angel.  _

Adam finally found the basket, although he might have hidden under the stairs to give his parents a bit of extra time.

"You lot, make the tea."

"So bossy," Aziraphale said with a sniffle. 

"He is," Adam agreed. 

"Oh, now you're teaming up against me! I'm proud of your wiles."

"We learned from the best," countered Aziraphale.

***

During the drive Aziraphale felt like champagne - he wanted to celebrate, he burst with affection and bubbling tenderness, he felt light and intoxicated, he wanted to grab Crowley's hand or to rest his palm on Crowley's knee, and Crowley, he was smiling at the road, pale pink on his dear sharp cheeks.

Aziraphale breathed in and out. He'd have to wait this time, he'd have to tread carefully, he'd have to show Crowley every moment how much he loved and cherished him, how happy Crowley was making him… He was loved, still, despite everything he had done, despite all the pain he had caused. He might have questioned his family and his colleagues, but he had always trusted Crowley, and how blind he was to doubt that man next to him, his son's father, his own husband! He only needed to relax, to let that honey-gold affection spread inside him… 

_ "You're fat, Aziraphale, fat, old and single… I'm not surprised, of course. Perhaps it's only natural that you'll take care of our nephew…" _

Aziraphale shook his head. Gabriel had no place there, in this car, with his Crowley and their boy. 

_ "Gabriel, how very disgusting to see you." _

_ "How much does he pay you to shag him?" _

_ "Oh, haven't you heard? I'm a celebrated writer. I won a Booker. I'm  _ **_loved._ ** _ You wouldn't know love if it looked you in the face… And for all those defeated dragons, I'm getting to marry Aziraphale." _

_ "Brother, let me deal with him." Bea, who had been squeezing Aziraphale's shoulder in support, walked up to Gabriel and looked him up and down. "You're not that impressive. Seeing how little you eat and how much you drink… and how much you run, judging by your far too accentuated legs, I'll give you two-three years before you just, oops, have so much time with your cardiologist, you'd consider yourself married to them." _

_ "Bea, you're awesome." Crowley grinned at Gabriel who was a goner ever since. _

Aziraphale laughed, out of the blue, but neither Adam, nor Crowley made a comment. 

Crowley parked the car, terribly as usual, and rushed to open the door for Aziraphale. 

They walked along the shore, up into the hills, Crowley carrying the basket in his hands and eventually Adam on his back, Aziraphale looking at them and failing to fathom how he had trusted anything but the sounds of their happy laughter…

"Well, yes, Adam, I want to take my shoes off, but seeing as you're riding me and our lunch, I don't think it's a possibility…"

"Take my shoes off, then!"

"You're a spoilt child, and I love you madly." Crowley tried to take Adam's shoes off, but it proved to be impossible, and suddenly Aziraphale was walking backwards and taking Adam's shoes and socks off. 

"Now, dear boy, how about you get that sensory stimulation you're seeking and run?" Aziraphale suggested. 

"I just wanted the wind between my toes," Adam replied innocently.

"So do I, so get off my back for a moment, so that I can take my shoes off…" But before he could finish the sentence, Aziraphale was kneeling before him, helping him out of his snakeskin boots. 

Crowley raised his eyes heavenwards and met Adam's mischievous glare. Aziraphale's hand touched Crowley's soles, then he was up on his feet, holding two pairs of shoes and socks. "Any better, my dears?" 

"Bastard," Crowley breathed out. 

"Well, move!" Adam nudged Crowley with his heels.

"Hey, Antichrist, you're not four anymore, and papa lets you eat a lot of lovely things that make you quite heavy… not that I have anything against it… oh." The basket was taken from his fingers. "Aziraphale, it's heavy…"

"It's fine, darling. I'm not that old."

"You're ancient." Adam giggled. "Both of you are."

"Oh no, Adam," Crowley replied smugly, "we're younger than the first spring."


End file.
